


Space Monkey in the Place to Be

by Profruck



Category: Blade Runner 2049
Genre: Gore, Implied Mpreg, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profruck/pseuds/Profruck





	Space Monkey in the Place to Be

It was a boy.

Wallace didn’t know how it worked that way, but it was a boy. He was going to be the key. This way he’d have to be.

The boy had a beautiful head. Wallace only had to use his hands to find out about that. Asymmetrical, beaten half to death, but beautiful nevertheless. He said this out loud too. He’d never been merciless with blessings.

“What do you want?” Replied K.

That reminded Wallace of what he had to do. His hands strolled lower, had to go beneath the worn-out lamb leather jacket. It stopped right above the abdomen. Could it be it? He wondered.

“Your secret,” said Wallace, reaching deep into his pocket for the pale little plug. It was designed to make a blind man see like an x-ray machine. It paid back what you lacked in this world, only ten times more.

“I have none,” K trembled involuntarily, violently beneath his hand. He was near death. Anybody could smell the blood rotten already on his sweater.

Wallace shushed him. Now he could see him better. He could see the cut that hurt him so tramendously. His face distorted with pain and anguish. He had blue eyes, like his father did.

“ _Swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, brandished by man that’s of a woman born,_ ” Wallace said, even he was surprised at how much patience he had with this particular piece, “but you see, my dear child, you are not of a woman born.”

K clenched his teeth and made no further objection with it. 

“How did she do it, K?” Wallace forced one fingertip inside the cut on the side, then two, then three, until the entire palm went through. It took him longer than it should for the reinforced toughness of the skin. He was as strong as the newer models out there these days, despite the lower format of his making.

“How did she do it?”

The poor child was screaming by this point. It was beyond any man, regardless of gracefulness, and Wallace understood it. 

“How did she do it? Do you have it in there, with you?” He started questing, tossing aside the organism that dragged along.

As he went on, Wallace explained to K the imminence that he’d felt. A puppeteer could only have as many fingers as his maker allowed. He needed the replicants to start reproducing among themselves, even humans and replicants. The world of the worlds needed it. He urged K to think about how wonderful the new specimen would be, let alone its superiority. 

“It will have all the strength in the worlds, and a heart to wield it.”

K was losing consciousness as blood flooded through the expansion in the wound. Wallace looked at it and hesitated. He took his hand out, flipped it, then unplugged the sensor. Without visuality, the blood felt like regular tissue fluid, the kind he used to have to soak his hands in for hours and hours, day and night.

“I would love to find out myself once they fix you up,” he touched K’s face again with the untainted hand, and felt again with his whole heart that relentless beauty of irregularity, “I’d feel very privileged to, too.”


End file.
